Hers
by Faran1078
Summary: Their possible lives if they both hadn't died and they'd been rescued. The story has come full circle and is finished.
1. The Tatoo

He could tell by the quality of the light through his closed lids, that it was morning. Something was missing though. He moved his left arm expecting to find Shannon curled up against him. His mother had seen them sleeping like that after they'd been rescued and had commented that that was the way they'd slept as children, when Shannon would crawl into his bed after a nightmare, so he could comfort her. Or when, during a thunderstorm, knowing he'd be lying awake, alone and terrified, she'd crawl into his bed, so she could comfort him.

He opened his eyes to look for her.

She was sitting on the bed at his side, naked, cross-legged, facing him. Watching him, obviously waiting for him to wake up. When she saw his eyes were open she spoke.

"It's day three."

"What?" His still sleep-fogged brain didn't grasp what it was she was getting at.

"You told me that they said at the tattoo place that on day three you could take the bandage off. It's day three. I wanna see it."

"Right, uh, okay." He scooted up the bed so that he was sitting upright against the headboard. He lowered his eyes to the white bandage that covered the inside of his left wrist. "I've been nervous about your reaction. I'm scared I'll see a look of triumph, or satisfaction, on your face."

She was mystified by his statement. "Puh-leeze don't tell me you've done something stupid like get "I heart Shannon" or something equally ridiculous. You told me you were just going to get my name."

"Well," he said quietly, "it's a little more than that."

He pulled off the tape that secured the bandage to his wrist, and extended his arm out to her. He raised his eyes to her face to gauge her reaction as he turned his arm over.

She stared at the word imprinted on his wrist. "What…why…Boone, what have you done?" Her lower lip started to tremble as she looked from his wrist to his face, and back again.

Now it was his turn to be mystified. This was certainly not the reaction he'd expected from her. He'd gotten pretty good at guessing how she'd react in any given circumstance, seeing as they'd been pretty much inseparable since, three months after the crash, she'd come to him to tell him she was pregnant with his child.

"Is this what you really think Boone?" Her eyes started tearing. "That I own you, that you're mine to use? I'm not that person any more, I know I have in the past, but I could never use you again. It's all different now. Please tell me you don't think I could do that." She was crying now, and looking at him, hurt and uncomprehending. He gathered her in his arms, trying to think of some way of explaining.

He hated it when she cried, especially when he was the cause of it, like now. The tears came more readily these days, for both of them, but it was usually due to the horror of a memory that might randomly surface. God knew that they each had enough horrific memories to draw on.

He felt her crying start to subside, and so pulled her away from him so that he could look her in the face as he tried to put it into words.

"You remember the first week we got back after we were rescued, we went to your friend, Cindy's, house? She asked each one of us separately what it was like to be married to the other. Afterward, she told us that you wanted to possess me, and that I wanted you to. That's what this is about, Shan, not you using me." He hoped it would suffice to correct her misinterpretation.

He'd thought about getting the tattoo when, during a discussion, he'd flippantly remarked that he might as well have "Property of Shannon Rutherford" tattooed on his ass. She'd embarrassed him in public, again, and they were talking about it. The island may have tamed her somewhat, but there was a wild streak in Shannon that nothing could ever completely extinguish.

"I'm sorry Boone," she apologized. "It just kind of caught me off guard. I don't know what made me jump to the wrong conclusion. I'm a dope sometimes."

"It's alright Shan," he reassured her.

He reached behind himself to grab an item on his bedside table. He showed her the antique silver "C" shaped bracelet that matched their wedding bands. It was funny, he'd asked her to marry him because he thought, given the change in their relationship, it was no longer appropriate for him to finish an introduction with "and this is my sister, Shannon." But, invariably, he still introduced her that way. Years of habit are hard to break.

He slid the silver bracelet over his left wrist with the opening on the top. The width of silver on the inside of his wrist completely covered the new tattoo. "See, no one has to know it's there but us." He knew he couldn't wear the bracelet, not yet, not until the healing had finished, but he wanted her to know that he had it.

She gave a little laugh, "You're an idiot."

"But I'm your idiot," he replied.

"Apparently you are," she said, tapping the bracelet.

She took his arm in her hand, carefully removing the bracelet so she wouldn't hurt him. The skin still looked red and sore.

She thought about what the word there meant to each of them, to both of them. She realized the truth of it at she stared at what was engraved in his flesh:

Shannon's


	2. Sabrina's pieces

Sabrina arrived at the restaurant half an hour before her scheduled luncheon with her children. She'd brought a pad with her, planning to jot down a few notes, sometimes getting out of the office helped to clear her mind.

Boone had said that they were coming into the city to trade in his car. It was three years old now, even if one of those years, for obvious reasons, he hadn't been able to drive it. Just because the outside world had stopped for them, that didn't mean that the car hadn't gotten one year older in that time.

She ordered a drink and sat back, pen in hand, with the full intention of getting to work. Instead she found herself recounting the few pieces of information she'd been able to glean from them about what they'd gone through on the island. She'd tried at first to ask direct questions, but every time this haunted look would come over them and it would seem like they were going to just crumble into dust. They'd seemed so fragile and broken, and they'd always refuse to answer her anyway, closing their eyes and saying "No, please, don't ask, it's too soon." Usually the tears followed soon after.

So, Sabrina Carlyle, who always demanded immediately answers, had had to fight her nature and had to wait for them to volunteer snippets of information.

Most of what she knew had come during a dinner party just a few days after they'd gotten back. She'd asked two of her friends over, a couple that had known Shannon and Boone since they were children. What she hadn't planned on was the reaction of the woman to their new relationship, or, more correctly, over-reaction. After Tammy had melodramatically said to them how overwhelming it was for her for the umpteenth time, Shannon had finally lost it. Pushing back her chair and standing, she'd started giving it back.

"If finding out that two people you've known for years have fallen in love and had a baby is overwhelming, then your sense of reality is seriously screwed. You want overwhelming, I'll tell you what's overwhelming! Overwhelming is falling out of the sky from 35,000 feet, overwhelming is watching your brother die, overwhelming is almost dying yourself after giving birth in the middle of the jungle on fucking Craphole Island, overwhelming is being chased through the jungle by monsters, polar bears and psychopaths…" Her breath had started hitching in her chest almost as soon as she'd started her rant, and by the time she got as far as she had, she was almost gasping for air.

Boone had jumped to his feet, seriously alarmed as soon as he'd realized that she was well on her way to a full-blown asthma attack.

He'd grabbed her by the shoulders, turning her to face him. "Shannon, look at me," he'd demanded. "You have to calm down, just calm down and breathe. Focus on me." He'd pulled her against his chest. "Feel me breathing Shan, just follow along." He'd stroked her hair, trying to calm her. "Shit, you haven't had an asthma attack in months. It's the fucking smog; you haven't had to breathe that crap for a year now. We have to get you away from the city."

In spite of the drama playing out in front of her, all Sabrina could focus on were Shannon's words "Overwhelming is watching your brother die." What the hell did that mean, when Boone was standing right in front of her?

She didn't find out that night, though, for as soon as she'd started breathing somewhat normally again, Boone had scooped Shannon up in his arms and carried her upstairs. Understandably, neither one of them was seen again that night.

The next day, when she'd gotten a moment alone with Shannon, she'd broken her promise to herself to wait for them to volunteer information, and had demanded an answer.

"Shannon, I have to know, what did you mean last night about watching Boone die?"

She'd gotten the reaction she'd come to expect, as Shannon seemed to crumple in on herself, hanging her head, and starting to cry. Before the girl could completely fall apart, Sabrina had spoken again. "Shannon, don't, just don't, not this time. I need to know this, I have a right to know what you meant."

She'd watched Shannon try to pull herself together, at least long enough to answer the question.

"There was an accident and he died. He asked Jack to let him go, and Jack did. But then…I don't know…it's all so confusing." She was shaking her head as if to get her thoughts straight. "I guess Jack saved him again…or maybe it was the island…no, no…it was Jack, Jack brought him back. Jack saved him, just like he saved me. Just like he saved all of us. It was Jack." With that she'd turned on her heel and fled from the room.

Well, Sabrina had thought sarcastically, wasn't that just terribly enlightening. And just what was that nonsense about the island bringing him back? Maybe they were more psychologically damaged than she'd thought.

She'd gotten an opportunity to ask Jack about it, one day when he'd come over at Boone's invitation. But all he'd said in response to her question, was that it wasn't his story to tell.

There were bits and pieces of other information she'd gotten from their passing comments. Like the fact that someone named Kate had died shortly before they were rescued. That information had come out in the car, after she'd picked them up where the cruise ship that had rescued them had docked. Kate's death had seemed to hit Shannon harder than Boone, but she could see that they both been deeply affected by it. She'd also learned that John, whoever he might have been, had disappeared into the jungle when their rescue seemed certain. What an odd man he must have been, to prefer to stay stranded, rather than return to civilization.

She'd also found out about two other deaths, without even meaning to, simply by making a comment about the name they'd chosen for their son. "Andrew is such a nice name. I've always liked it, that's why I gave it to Boone as his middle name."

"He's not named after me." Boone had said.

Shannon had continued, "One of the survivors' died the same week he was born. His name was Andy, so we thought it was only fitting. That it's also Boone's middle name is just a coincidence."

Boone had laughed then. "Thank God he wasn't anywhere near due when Arzt blew up, I don't think I could have possibly forced myself to name him Leslie."

Sabrina had puzzled over that one. Why would they name their son after a woman named Leslie Arzt, especially when her death had obviously been so gruesome…explosion?

She came out of her reverie only to realize that not only had the entire half hour she'd allotted for work passed, but without even realizing she'd picked up the glass once, she'd managed to completely finish her drink.

She glanced toward the entrance, hoping that Boone still had the good manners to be on time.


	3. Busted

Sabrina looked again towards the door of her favourite restaurant to see Boone and Shannon entering. On time, as usual, she shouldn't have questioned Boone's ingrained sense of good manners.

She was pleased to see that they looked like they'd made some sort of effort on their appearance. At least they didn't look like a couple of extras from some action/adventure movie, dressed for hiking through the jungle. Although Shannon wore shorts, instead of the customary skirt she would have worn before, and Boone had on a t-shirt instead of a collared shirt, but at least the sleeves were still attached to this one.

She was also pleased to see that they had brought Andrew with them. Even from across the room she could see how much he'd grown in the month since she'd last seen him at their wedding. But then, that only made sense, he'd only been five months then, and now he was six.

She'd never really liked babies, they were messy and noisy, but Andrew was different. Although he made noises like any baby, she had never actually heard him cry, which, even she with her limited experience, knew was highly unusual. When asked about it, Shannon, in another one of those cryptic moments, had replied that he had learned from the island that, drawing attention to yourself, by making loud noises, was not a good thing. Why in the world did they keep talking like this island was an entity, anthropomorphizing a random land mass? And why would they think that a newborn would learn something so bizarre?

She noticed that they continued to look more relaxed and happy each time she saw them, as time carried them farther away from their island experiences. They, on the other hand, noticed that she looked increasingly more harried and exhausted each time they saw her, as time carried her closer towards a stress-induced heart attack.

As they reached the table Boone leaned down to kiss her cheek. "Hello, mother."

"Hello, Boone dear." She held out her hands to take Andrew from him so she could give him a hug and a kiss, which she quickly did, handing him back to Boone.

Shannon smiled warily at her from across the table. "Hi, Sabrina."

"Shannon." Sabrina held up her hand, beckoning Shannon closer. Shannon stared at the upraised arm, like it was a cobra waiting to strike, but obediently went around the table to give her a kiss on the cheek, quickly returning to where she'd been, on the other side.

The attentive wait staff had brought a high chair for the baby while they'd been greeting each other. Boone slid Andrew into it, carefully fastening the safety harness.

Sabrina started the conversation, "So, how did it go at the car dealership?"

They proceeded to order lunch, chatting about mundane events as they ate. When they were done, Shannon excused herself to take Andrew to the ladies room to change his diaper.

Sabrina turned to Boone. "I see you have a new bracelet, may I see it?"

He held his left arm out to her, showing her the piece of jewelery.

"No Boone," she said in an exasperated tone, shaking her head, "I meant for you to take it off so I could look at it."

"Right." He put his hands in his lap, removing the bracelet and handing it awkwardly across his body with his right hand, to Sabrina, seated on his left.

"It's beautiful. I see you had it engraved with the plane and 815 to match your wedding bands." She turned it this way and that, in her hand. "I didn't notice, does Shannon have one too?"

"No," he answered a little too quickly and forcefully. If Sabrina knew the real purpose of the bracelet, she would never have asked such a ridiculous question. Thankfully, Sabrina hadn't noticed his odd response.

He was still thinking about the absurd notion of Shannon marring her body with a tattoo, as he absently reached out with his left hand to take back the bracelet Sabrina was holding out to him.

She snatched it back, staring at his wrist. He realized his gaffe immediately. Shit, he thought, I'm so busted. Of course, he knew that sooner or later, she would find out. He just wasn't expecting that today would be the "sooner" he was dreading. As she pinched her lips together, he sat back to await the eruption of Mount St. Sabrina. At least they were in a public place. While Shannon would pitch a fit anywhere, Sabrina would never, ever, cause a scene in public.

"What's that on your wrist, Boone?" she asked, in a dangerously quiet voice.

He sighed, "It's a tattoo, mother."

She stared at him, "It's not enough that you abandoned your career in the city to become a convenience store clerk, in some backwards hick town."

He quickly interrupted her, trying to justify himself once again. "It's not a hick town and I'm not a convenience store clerk. I own a general store and bakery and help run it. And you know why we left the city. It's too big, too noisy for us now, and, most importantly, there's Shannon's asthma. We like the small town life."

She continued, as if he hadn't said anything. "That you wear those ridiculous t-shirts with the sleeves torn off, like some common street urchin."

"I've explained that to you too," he interjected. "I never did find my luggage, so it was either wear the only clothes I could find that fit, clothes that belonged to some poor guy who died in the crash, or wander around naked. Really mother, which would you have had me do? Hmmm?"

"You didn't have to continue to wear them, once you got back." she was quick to retort.

"I'm comfortable in them, I'm used to them," he explained.

"And now you have a tattoo," she kept going. "What's next, a rusty pick-up truck with a gun rack?"

"Oh, so you know what I traded my car in for?" He knew he was being childish, but he couldn't stop himself.

"Don't be smart with me, Boone," she warned him. "Let me see it. What does it say?"

He held his arm out to her, waiting for the rest of the fallout.

Her lips pinch even tighter together as her gaze moved from his wrist to his face. "The ring on your finger's not enough for her, she had to brand you as well?"

"It wasn't Shannon's idea, mother, it was mine." Boone didn't want Shannon to wrongly take the heat for this.

"Nice try, but I don't believe it for a second. You continue to endlessly disappoint me these days," she said, dismissing his explanation.

"At least I'm consistent," he said quietly.

Shannon returned at that point, and, sensing from Sabrina's pinched lips, and Boone's heightened colour, that she missed something good, as in very, very bad, silently wondered what was going on.

He raised his left arm from the table, waving it once in the air.

She immediately saw that the bracelet was missing, and guessed that Sabrina had found out about the tattoo. That was confirmed as Sabrina tossed the bracelet onto the tablecloth in front of Boone.

"Oh," Shannon said, shrugging her shoulders as she sat down, holding Andrew on her lap. Boone was an idiot if he'd thought he could keep something like that from his mother for very long.

"Boone was just trying to convince me that this _tattoo_ was his idea and not yours." Sabrina said, turning her attention from Boone to Shannon.

"Yeah, it was all his idea," she confirmed. Shannon wasn't going to be the fall guy for this, especially when it was true that it _was_ all his idea.

"I don't believe either one of you." Sabrina said dismissively. "This has Shannon's name written all over it, both figuratively _and_ literally."

"Believe what you want, that doesn't change the truth of it." Shannon was so used to Sabrina always blaming her for everything, that she just really didn't care anymore.

"My, aren't you both being impertinent today." Sabrina looked from one of them to the other.

Boone picked the bracelet up from the table, slipping it back on his wrist. "We have to be going, mother, the new car'll be ready by now." He was tired of this.

He stood, grabbing the strap of his green bag off the back of the chair. "Thanks for lunch."

"Can't you stay in the city this afternoon and come to the house for dinner tonight?" Sabrina asked.

Shannon looked at her in disbelief, forgetting for a moment, that with Sabrina it was always all about her. Why would the woman think they'd want to spend more time with her after what has just transpired?

"No, we can't," Boone answered, so used to how self centred his mother was, that he wasn't surprised by her request. "We promised Tom and Heather we'd be home this afternoon, and besides, there's stuff I have to get prepped for the morning."

He bent down to kiss her cheek, saying quietly in her ear, "It's only a tattoo, get over it."

Her eyes widened in surprise at his comment, but she stayed quiet.

"Thanks for lunch, Sabrina," Shannon stood, holding Andrew, "We'll have to do this again soon," she finished sarcastically, both of them knowing she didn't mean it for a second.

Boone smirked at that, good one Shan, he thought.

"Well come on puddin' pie, let's go get the pick up," he drawled, doing an excellent impression of Sawyer. He was enjoying himself now.

Shannon had no idea where this was coming from, having missed the earlier conversation he'd had with his mother. She played along, though, grabbing his arm with her free hand. "Okay, pa," she answered.

With a final smile at Sabrina, they turned and left.


	4. The Store

They started looking for the store exactly one week after getting back. They weren't looking specifically for a store; they were just looking for a place to call home. They'd learned in the car on the way back from the dock that Sabrina had sold Boone's house on Blue Reef Lane in Malibu. He didn't really care, he had no affinity for the place, it was just somewhere to live. What did concern him somewhat, was that when she said she was taking them home, she meant _her_ home. He didn't really see any good coming from staying there, but he supposed that it was better than staying in some hotel.

The push to get out of her house came after yet another incident had caused Shannon to break down into tears. "Take me home Boone. Please, take me home," she'd pleaded with him, expecting, as always, that he'd make everything right.

"I will, Shan, I promise. I just have to figure out where that is." He'd answered.

They were having a difficult time adjusting to being back. All that time on the island, when all they'd thought about was rescue, they hadn't considered that they'd have any difficulty fitting back into society. They hadn't realized that they'd picked up habits and skills that people who hadn't been through what they had, would find outlandish and, in at least one case, truly frightening.

They'd scared Sabrina's cook half to death one day without meaning to at all. To them, what they were doing was just a natural activity. They were just out in the back yard, with Andrew, throwing Boone's hunting knife back and forth, into the grass at each other's feet. It was something they'd done countless times before, simply a way to hone their skill, and pass the time, while they talked. The cook, however, didn't view it that way, and was ready to call the police, convinced that they were going to kill one another, or the baby. Thankfully, the house keeper had intervened before she'd actually made the call, and had come out to tell them to stop, after sending the cook home for the rest of the day to calm down.

They also had a hard time sleeping inside. They were so used to sleeping on the ground with the stars overhead, and the sounds of the jungle surrounding them, that the comfortable king sized bed in Boone's old room actually seemed _uncomfortable_, and the ceiling overhead appeared to press down on them like the lid on a coffin. So they'd taken to slipping out to the back yard after everyone had fallen asleep, hauling pillows and a blanket with them, so they could sleep where they'd become the most accustomed, outside. Though they'd promise themselves that they'd wake up early and go back inside, a member of the grounds crew, or household staff, had found them, still there the following morning, more than once.

What they didn't know was that Sabrina had also seen them, from her bedroom window, on several occasions. One night she paused to watch them as they made love on the grass, in the moonlight, their tanned, naked bodies sliding over each other. She felt a surge of jealously for what they had, and, that in their struggle over which one of them would possess Boone, Shannon had come out victorious.

Even the way they ate caused problems. Jack had warned all of them about their diet, that they hadn't had processed foods, and food additives in a year, so he'd told them all to stick as close as possible, at least at first, to what they'd gotten used to. So when the cook thought she was doing something nice by planning a huge lavish mean for their first dinner back, she'd been highly disappointed when they'd said all they wanted was grilled fish and steamed vegetables.

When Boone woke up on that Monday morning, one week after getting back, he'd known since the scene the night before that it was well past time to move on.

After breakfast, they loaded Andrew and some overnight stuff into Boone's car and drove off to try and find a place to call home. They didn't know where they were going, they just wanted to find a quiet town where they could settle, start their lives over again, and raise their son.

About two hours into the drive Boone turned right onto a secondary road.

"Why'd you turn here?" Shannon asked.

"I don't know exactly, it just seemed like the thing to do." Boone replied.

"What? Did you suddenly develop the psychic ability to know the right thing to do, like Jack?" she questioned.

"You know I didn't. I just suddenly felt that this was as good a place as any to get off the highway. If we're going to find a place to live it won't be right next to the interstate," he answered.

About half an hour later they came to a town and parked in front of what appeared to be a general store, with living quarters at the rear, situated directly across the road from a lake fronted by a small beach.

"Let's take a break here." Boone said.

They entered the store, and immediately turned to look at one another with a smile. It had hit them both at once, like a love at first sight kind of thing, this is it, they both thought, a solution as to where to live, _and_ where to work.

It was an old fashioned general store, with a wooden floor and painted white walls. The kind of place everyone would think only existed in some town like in that old Andy Griffith TV series. They could smell the odour of home baked goods in the air. There was a diverse array of merchandise on the shelves, from the kind of stuff you'd find in any store, like bread and milk, to beach towels, flip flops, hammers and nails. It was obviously prosperous, as there were quite a few customers browsing around with several items in their baskets. The elderly gentleman behind the counter smiled at them. "Anything I can help you with, folks?"

Boone smiled back at the man, "Hi, I'm Boone, and this is my sister Shannon, and our son Andrew." Fuck, he thought, cursing himself for the whole "this is my sister" thing, I've gotta stop doing that. He quickly amended it, "I mean my wife Shannon," even though, in the strictest sense of the word, she really wasn't. "Could you possibly tell me where I could find the owner of this place?" he asked politely, hoping the man wouldn't question the absurdity of his introduction.

No such luck, it turned out. The man looked at him appraisingly then turning to Shannon he asked "What are you, his sister or his wife? I only ask because there's a world of difference between the two, especially when the baby is your son."

Damn you Boone, she thought, looking over at him. At least he had the grace to look chagrinned. "I'm both," she answered. "I _was_, I mean, I guess I still _am_, his step-sister."

"Well, that must cause all sorts of confusion," the man responded with a smile. He turned to Boone, "As to your question, young fellow, you're looking at him, I'm Tom. Is there a problem, a reason you're looking for me?"

"Well, I know this is going to sound absurd, coming out of the blue like this, but are you interested in selling?" Boone asked.

"What are you, some kind of mind reader?" Tom asked. "Heather and I were just talking about that this morning. We were going to call the real estate agent tomorrow and put it on the market. We figure we've reached the age where we might just not want all this responsibility day in and day out. Maybe time to take a break. We'll miss it, of course. We've lived here since the day we got married, and worked here since even before then." With an answer that long it was obvious that the man was used to chatting with his customers.

"Well, sir, I don't think you're going to have to make that call," Boone responded. "Is there some place we could go to talk in private?"

"Of course there is, but it'll have to wait until 5. That's when I've got Shelly coming in after school to take over here at the front." Tom paused to think, "I tell you what, you go on through the back there, introduce yourselves to Heather, tell her what you just asked me, and she'll keep you occupied until Shelly comes in."

Shannon smiled at him, "Thanks, that's very kind of you."

They stayed till 5…then for dinner…then for the night, and eventually for good, moving their stuff in before the end of the week. The purchase was completed in record time, though Boone knew he'd paid far less for the place than he should have.

Boone and Shannon asked Tom and Heather to stay on. They felt bad having them move, even though they now owned the place instead of Tom and Heather, it _was_ their family home, and besides they were so used to living with other people, it actually would have felt strange having the place all to themselves. Their staying served both couple's purposes, Tom and Heather got to continue living in their home, working in the business they'd grown, but without the 24/7 commitment of before. Boone and Shannon got the bonus of their knowledge, the ability to leave when they needed knowing that business was being taken care of by the most qualified people there could be, and, because they'd both fallen in love with Andrew, built in baby sitters.

Their roles in the business were set even before they started work, but those roles weren't at all what the Marshall's were expecting. While Heather did the books and prepared the limited selection of home baked goods that they offered for sale, Tom worked the front, and they'd just assumed that Boone and Shannon would follow the same pattern. Their expectations were corrected when Heather asked Shannon to join her in the kitchen to get things ready for the next day's baking. Shannon just looked at her totally incredulously.

Boone was quick to forestall any misunderstanding. "Uh, Heather, unless you want people for miles around to suddenly die from food poisoning, I don't think it's a really good idea to have Shannon involved in any way with any food preparation." He looked at Shannon, who rolled her eyes at him, but didn't contradict. "I'll be helping you with the baking and the books, Shan'll help Tom out front." He couldn't resist adding "She has a real way with people." What that way was, he wasn't saying, he only hoped she could keep a bit of a rein on her snark.


	5. Their First Wedding

Back on the island he'd had a lot of down time during his convalescence from what Shannon and he had come to call "the Beechcraft incident," to say he was recovering from dying was such an extreme oxymoron that they couldn't even think about it, let alone actually refer to it as such. So, because he hated not feeling useful, he'd tried to find ways to help that didn't involve physical exertion. He'd taught Jin some rudimentary English, and had learned a bit of first aid from Jack. He'd seen Claire braiding her hair one day, and had asked her to show him how it was done. It had also given him a chance to get to know her better, and she a chance to share her fears about raising Aaron on the island. He didn't know it at the time, but they were fears he was soon going to have to face himself, after Shannon revealed her pregnancy to him. When he was more mobile, Jack had assigned Hurley to him, to help him back and forth from the beach. Jack wanted him to start exercising his leg a little, and it was best to do it in the ocean, with the support and cushion of the water. Hurley was the perfect choice, as he didn't mind the snail's pace that was all that Boone could manage at first.

Once it was obvious that he was going to make it, Shannon had distanced herself from him again, but she'd also broken it off with Sayid. Her reaction when she thought she was going to lose him showed her that she'd just been lying to herself and Sayid when she'd said that Boone loved her, but she didn't feel the same way about him. She needed time to think, but when she realized she was pregnant, she knew that time had run out, and so had gone to him to tell him she was pregnant with his child.

Once it had sunken in, he'd looked at her with a goofy grin and had given her a kiss on the cheek, not certain where this left their relationship. Her next words made that perfectly clear.

"There's more, Boone," she'd said dropping her head, looking at the ground. Taking a deep breath, she'd raised her eyes to him, "I love you. It's taken me a while to accept it, you know how good I am at denial, but I _do_ love you, I want us to be together, and it's not just because of the baby, it's how I'd feel even without that complication."

"Shannon?" He couldn't believe what he was hearing. She'd waited quietly for him to finish. "You know you've owned my heart since I was ten; you know how much I love you." He'd stepped towards her and pressed his mouth to hers.

He'd made love to her then. He'd been good in Sydney, but his need and the frustrated passion he'd been holding back for years had made it go by too fast. There, on the island, taking his time, he'd been amazing. He was gentle, passionate, kind, patient….he was Boone. He'd examined every inch of her body, his hand passing back and forth over her slightly swollen abdomen a few times. When she came, she'd twined her fingers in his hair, pulling his face up so she could stare into his grey eyes as her orgasm coursed through her and she breathed his name. He came seconds after her, and followed her lead staring into her eyes as he gasped, "God, Shannon, Shan." He'd dropped his head to her shoulder, waiting for his breathing to return to normal.

"Jesus, Boone, how'd you get so good at sex? I would never have expected that the best sex I'd ever have in my life would be with my own brother." She'd added that last part just to needle him.

He'd raised his head to look at her, an understandably disturbed look on his face, "Christ, Shannon, that's just _so_ many kinds of wrong."

She'd laughed and had asked him again.

He'd slid off her and propped himself up on his elbow by her side, he shrugged. "I watched, I questioned, I listened, I learned. You know how my mother has always driven me to be a perfectionist. I approached it like learning _any_ new skill. It's just that practicing being good at sex, is much more fun than golf and perfecting your stroke." He'd paused for a second "Oooh, unintentional double entendre," he'd laughed, "Sorry about that."

They'd been practically inseparable after that, though when he was able, Boone had gone back into the jungle to participate in the hunts. He still couldn't believe that she was letting him love her the way he'd always wanted to, openly and without shame, that he could go up to her and kiss her any time he wanted, which was often.

Jack approached them about getting married four months after that, seven months after the crash, as they were sitting together on the beach. He squatted down on his heels beside them, and, squinting a little because of the afternoon sun, asked, "Uh, look guys, I know this is going to sound a little weird, but…uh, would you two consider getting married?"

Shannon started laughing, holding her swollen belly with one hand, and, as her laughter continued, wiping tears from her eyes with the other.

Boone looked at her more than a little hurt. "Is the idea of marrying me so outlandish to you that your only reaction is hysterical laughter?"

"No, no," she managed to gasp out, trying to regain control. "It was the way Jack asked. It sounded like he was asking the two of us to marry him."

Jack sat down, and hung his head for a second, a smile on his face. "Okay, I guess I deserved that. I certainly could have phrased it better. Obviously what I meant was, would the two of you consider getting married to each other."

"Why?" Boone asked.

Jack's face took on that earnest look that he always seemed to wear as leader, "Well, everyone's pretty freaked out about how things are playing out with the supposed "sickness" that Danielle warned us about. I guess, because her team was so small, they didn't really understand what was going on. And if, as Sayid, has said, the effect it had on her was to allow her to hear the voices in the jungle, I guess she could easily have misunderstood and thought everyone was going mad."

"Did you find any others who are affected the same as the two of us?" Boone questioned.

"So far, Sawyer and Sayid have admitted to hearing the voices in the jungle, Michael tells me that Walt has definitely shown signs of some kind of telekinesis, Claire feels that she might have a bit of prescience, I've seen dead people," he stopped at that and laughed realizing what he'd said. "Jeeze, I sound like that crazy kid in that stupid movie, but being able to pick up on each others thoughts, not so far, though I haven't worked my way through everybody. And of course, there's Locke. He's so cryptic, who knows how it's affecting him, but, from his behaviour, I only know that it _is_. It seems as if any latent psychic ability we have is being magnified, I don't know how, but I can't deny the signs."

"So what's that got to do with us getting married?" Shannon couldn't be blamed for not making the connection; Jack hadn't exactly explained himself very well.

"If there was something else to think about, some reason to celebrate, it would certainly raise everyone's spirits, so I though of you two." He didn't mention that morale was also down because they were all beginning to lose hope of rescue ever coming.

"We'll do whatever we can to help." Shannon offered.

Boone looked at her, "Even if it means marrying your doofus brother?"

"You're not really my brother," she replied mischievously.

"You didn't mention anything about the doofus part."

"You were the one who brought it up," she laughed at him.

Everyone got involved in preparing for the festivities. After asking around they chose Charlie to officiate, both because he loved being the centre of attention and because he'd actually been an altar boy. He couldn't remember all the words to the service, but Boone, who, because of his job, had been present at too many weddings to count, filled in the ones he'd forgotten.


	6. Meltdown

They'd been living there for about a month when Heather asked Boone why he'd never invited his mother to see their new home, saying that she'd really like to meet her.

"You really want Sabrina Carlyle here? You really want to meet her?" He wasn't sure she knew what she was asking. He didn't think his mother was quite the monster that Shannon did, but he didn't have any illusions about her.

So he'd picked up his cell and invited her for dinner. He barely had time to push "end" when he knew he'd made a big mistake in not talking to Shannon before making the call. Damn, for all the times she had to pick up what he was thinking, it had to be now.

"Wait for it," Boone said, wincing and pointing at the door.

Heather looked at him confused until she heard the rapidly approaching footsteps. A furious Shannon burst into the room.

"Just what the hell have you done, Boone Carlyle?" she demanded.

"Shannon, she's just coming for dinner. We live here now, her grandson lives here, you can't possibly imagine that she'd never visit, I was just making it on our terms not hers." Boone was hoping that she'd see the sense of it and calm down.

"This was the one place that didn't have mother's presence stamped on it, the one place that was just ours." Boone knew she was well past pissed now, Shannon never referred to Sabrina as her mother unless she was incensed. "What an asshole you are, Boone."

The tension that they'd both been under, that had bubbled just below the surface for well over a year now, both on the island and after being rescued, suddenly erupted. The situation quickly deteriorated after that.

"You are _such_ a self centred bitch," he responded.

"And you're a sanctimonious _bastard_," she threw back.

They scaled the fight up into a full out brother/sister screaming match, hurling insults back and forth at one another, as years of practice took over.

"Thieving little whore," he accused.

"Fucking stupid loser," she sneered.

There was more. Heather couldn't believe the extremity of some of the epithets they yelled at one another.

"Go fuck yourself, Shannon," Boone spat, several minutes later. His face was flaming red, and they were both breathing hard.

"I hate you! Go to hell, Boone!" She raised her right hand to slap him, putting all the weight of her body into it. He grabbed her wrist in mid air, before she could land the blow.

As soon as she realized that Shannon intended to hit Boone, Heather knew she had to intervene. "Children, stop this _right now,_" she commanded, stepping into the role of mother, drawing on the experience she'd gotten stopping fights between her own children, though certainly none of those fights had been as bad as this one.

She turned to the instigator. "Shannon, apologize to your brother, this instant."

Shannon was staring at him open mouthed, eyes wide. The tension suddenly left her body, and he let go of her wrist. There were red marks from the imprint of his fingers, an indication of just how hard he been holding it.

She looked at him, horrified, seconds away from tears. "Jesus, Boone, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean…oh, my god, I'm so sorry." She burst into tears and turned and ran from the room.

Boone fumbled behind himself for his chair and sat down heavily, burying his face in his hands. His shoulders started to shake, and Heather knew he was crying as well.

Tom stuck his head in the door. "What happened? I heard all the yelling, and then Shannon ran out the front door crying."

Heather moved out into the hall, leaving Boone alone. "They were fighting over Boone's mother coming for dinner. But that's such a trivial thing to get so upset about, I'm certain there was more to it. I've watched them the past month, seen the stress they try to hide. Maybe they need to talk to someone or maybe they just need to get away, relax, have some fun, be with people their own age, start to try and put everything they've been through behind them." She glanced at Tom, "Shannon was actually going to hit him," she finished, shaking her head at the very thought of it.

"Shannon? Hit Boone? Never. She loves that boy to distraction," Tom was incredulous.

"I know. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it myself. Do you know where she went?" Heather asked.

"I think she's sitting on the beach, at least she was headed that way." Tom guessed.

"I'll go see if Boone's composed himself enough yet to go out and talk to her." Heather turned to go back into the office.

She found him still sobbing miserably. She stroked his hair and, at her touch, he leaned forward in his chair pressing his head against her, circling his arms around her waist like a child. When he'd recovered enough to be able to speak, he asked, "How could I have done that? How could I have said all those things to her I didn't mean. She'll never speak to me again. God, I wish I'd _stayed_ dead."

"Boone, don't you _ever_ say that again!" Heather admonished him. She continued, "But you need to pull yourself together, you need to go and talk to her _right now_. And then, we _all_ need to talk."

He managed to get it together after that and had wandered slowly down to the beach, afraid to approach Shannon, afraid of her rejection.

He stood uncertainly beside where she sat in the sand, her arms around her knees, her face hidden. She sensed his presence, and raised her tear stained face to stare out across the water. "You must hate me."

"No Shan, I don't, I never could." He paused, "I was afraid to come out here, though, that you'd tell again how much _you_ hate _me_, like you just did inside." He spoke softly.

"I don't, not really, you know." She spoke equally gently, still looking out at the lake. "What happened in there, Boone? How did it all get so wrong, so crazy, so fast? I completely lost control, I couldn't stop myself; it scared me." She glanced quickly up at him, still afraid to meet his eyes. She noticed he'd been crying too. She smiled a small brief smile at him, before looking away again. He took it as an invitation to sit. He lowered himself to the ground, careful to keep a few inches between them, careful not to look at her.

"Heather wants to talk to us." He tried to change the subject, still too hurt; too frightened, to continue talking about what had happened, even though he knew they should.

Shannon sighed, "She probably wants to tell us that they're leaving. Who could blame them after that? Are _we_ gonna be okay do you think?"

"I don't know. I sure hope so. I spent twelve lonely years loving you before you loved me back. That'd be a lot of time to spend waiting if our relationship doesn't even survive to a year and a half."

They sat quietly for a few minutes, each locked up in their own thoughts, careful to guard what they were thinking from each other.

"We should go back inside, find out what they want." Boone stood, brushing the sand from his hands. He held one out to her to help her up. He waited to see if she'd take it. She reached out and grabbed it just long enough to rise to her feet. She crossed her arms in front of her, tucking her hands up in her armpits, hanging her head again. He turned to lead the way back to the store. They walked slowly, each of them bowed under by the load of guilt they carried.

Five o'clock found them all gathered around the kitchen table. Boone held Andrew on his lap, playing absently with the baby, waving some toy he'd pick up at random it front of the child. Neither Boone nor Shannon were looking at one another. Tom was struck at how impossibly young they both were to have been through so much.

"Look guys," Tom started, "we love you both like you were our own kids. And we're worried about you, for obvious reasons. Has anyone ever suggested that you _talk_ to someone?"

Shannon answered, "Jack mentioned that some of us _might_ benefit from seeing a psychologist, but there's so much weird stuff we _couldn't_ say, not without reprisals, that he wasn't sure if he should actually recommend it. I mean, who would believe some of the bizarre stuff that happened, without trying to convince us that it was part of a delusion. We might end up even more screwed up than we already are."

Tom and Heather considered the truth of what she was saying. "How about going away for a bit? Relaxing, lying in the sun, _on a safe_ _beach_, going out with people your own age, partying? We'll take care of Andrew for you." Heather offered.

"Going _away_? We just got _back,_" Boone protested, but wondered if it wasn't such a bad idea.

"But it wasn't like you were away on a year's vacation. It started with a _plane crash_ and was incredibly dangerous and stressful, _every day_. And then when you got back, you just threw yourselves into trying to recreate normal lives, without giving any thought to just taking some time trying to _deal_ with it." Heather tried to explain the reasoning behind their suggestion, "If you won't talk to anyone, and I understand your reservations, then you need some down time."

Boone glanced at Shannon then, to see what her reaction was to the idea. She was _finally_ looking at him. She nodded her head slightly, thinking, yeah, we could do that.

"Okay, then," he agreed. "Just leave the idea with us for a bit."

They went to bed that night, lying as far from one another as the bed would allow, still not prepared to resume the same closeness. Waking in the morning, Shannon found herself in her usual position, pressed up against his left side, her arm across his chest, his, around her shoulder. She must have moved there, unconsciously, in the night. She knew he was already awake. She thought back to the whole vacation idea that they'd agreed to. Where would we go, she wondered?

"Mexico," he answered.

"Why not someplace more exotic?" she questioned, they had almost unlimited funds and choices, why someplace so close?

"We could drive there, no flying involved," he explained with a little laugh. "Besides, it's a nice place. I've been there several times on business, but never for pleasure. I've got lots of contacts, I'm sure on such short notice I could still get us a really nice suite, with an ocean view."

She moved to look at him. "We could talk in the car on the way down."

"Yeah, we could. I think we should, that we need to. I love you, Shan, I always will, but we need to work some things out. Heather was right, we have a lot to deal with, a lot we need to talk about, before we can move on, and start to put the island behind us," he searched her eyes.

She smiled at him and moved up to kiss him, gently. "We'll be alright," she said with certainty.

"I know."


	7. Vacation

The dinner with Sabrina had gone surprisingly well, she was at her most charming, but they both breathed a sigh of relief when her chauffeur closed the car door for her and drove away.

They left two days later. Things had gotten better between them, but there was still a certain degree of awkwardness that they both hoped would dissipate during the drive. Their bags loaded in the car, they gave Andrew a final kiss, and drove away themselves.

He headed the car for LA so they could pick up a main artery heading south. As the reached the city Shannon spoke, "Are we having fun yet?" she asked with a mischievous smile on her face. She knew that something had to break the ice, and true to form as always, she was going to do something that would shock him.

"I don't think it says anywhere that at," he glanced at the clock in the dash, "11:31 a.m., Boone and Shannon start to have fun."

"Well,_ I_ think it should." She leaned down across the seat and undid the zipper on his jeans. He knew there was nothing he could say to stop her, and truthfully, he didn't really think he wanted to, he was just hoping that nobody would look into the car. He tried desperately to focus on driving. Before she'd barely begun, in typical LA fashion, the traffic came to a complete stand still. He stopped the car praying that nobody would see what she was doing.

When he came, his head snapped back against the headrest and his foot slipped off the clutch, the car lurched forward, almost rear-ending the Audi in front of them. "Shit," he exclaimed. Shannon laughed, still holding him in her mouth, the vibration of her laughter causing heat to pulse through him. The woman in the car ahead must have caught the sudden movement; she was looking back at him in her rear view. As Shannon sat up, the woman started laughing; his face flushed red in embarrassment. "Fuck, Shannon."

"Not right now, Boone, we'll save _that_ for later." She was being the playful bitch, and he dreaded the long hours he was going to have to spend with her in the car if she was going to tease him and make fun at his expense.

The traffic cleared and they started making good time. A few hours down the road Shannon turned to him. He could sense her hesitancy, after the episode in the LA traffic jam, she'd quickly retreated back into herself. "What was it like, Boone? Being dead? I've never asked, I was too afraid, of what you might say, of what I might make you remember. But this trip, it's all supposed to be about clearing the air, and trying to move on…so…I…I'm asking."

He felt the nausea immediately. "I have to pull over." He swung the wheel and stopped the car on the shoulder. She watched as he rested his forehead on the steering wheel. She was sorry she'd asked, but she knew if there was one thing they had to discuss, it was this. "Every time I think about it, which is something I try _not_ to do, it scares the hell out of me. I should have died and _stayed_ dead, Shan. I know that, Jack knows that, I was so messed up inside." He started shaking, but continued, "I remember the release, being relieved the pain was over. I remember hearing Claire and Kate, a baby crying, and it was like something had been torn out of me, like a little piece, I remember being glad I could give such a precious gift, a gift of _life_, I don't know, but being scared, terrified, that it was too much, that there was nothing left for _me_. But I guess there was, because then, suddenly, something pulled me back, I slammed back, and I was suddenly breathing again, and it hurt so much, so damn much. I should have _died_, Shannon, I shouldn't have been able to come back. I should be _dead_." He opened the door and got out; she could hear him retching behind the car. She pulled her feet up onto the edge of the seat and wrapped her arms around her knees, hiding her face and rocking gently as she cried.

After a bit, she wasn't sure how long, she raised her head, looking around outside the car for him, but not seeing him anywhere. Alarmed, she opened her door, but, before she even got out of the car, she saw him, sitting with his back against the car's rear passenger door, staring at the ground.

She crouched beside him, not touching him. She gently said his name, "Boone?"

He didn't look at her, "What?"

"What do you think really happened, why _do_ you think you came back?" She needed to get the rest of it over with before she lost her nerve.

"It was Craphole Island, who knows! If Locke was here, I suppose we could ask him, he'd probably have something to say, but then his answer would probably be beyond understanding anyway. I guess the cliché "It just wasn't my time," sounds lame." He turned his head to look at her. "I feel better, telling you about it, actually saying the words out loud. Sorry if it all sounds so…I don't know…out there." He stood, "Come on, let's get back on the road."

The floodgates opened after that, and, once they started talking, they couldn't stop; discussing all the things they'd kept from each other, and from themselves, even revisiting past hurts they'd inflicted on each other in the years before the crash. They stopped half-way for the night, and were far more relaxed by the time they reached their destination.

Boone had pulled a few strings, invoking the name Carlyle in order to get them the suite he wanted. As they checked in, the manager came out, personally welcoming Sabrina Carlyle's son. Boone had dealt with him several times when still working for his mother, and the man made sure they knew to ask for him if they needed anything. Quite a bit of his revenue came from servicing the Carlyle account, and he wasn't about to let anything affect that.

Their room faced the ocean, just as Boone had promised it would, so the first thing Shannon did was throw open the sliding door to the balcony so they could hear the sound of the water. Boone came up to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her as they both looked out at the expanse of blue, and smelled the salt and humidity of it. He rested his head on her shoulder, pulling her hair back and kissing her neck. She smiled, and reached her hand up to run her fingers through his hair, "I miss it sometimes, the constant sound of the surf." She twisted around to face him. "I love you."

He breathed a little laugh, "It still amazes me every time you say that; I don't think I'll ever get enough of hearing it."

She brought her hand up to touch his face, "Make love to me, Boone."

That night at dinner they hooked up with three other couples their own age. Boone had overhead them discussing the merits of two banquet halls in the LA area and had given his opinion of one over the other.

"How would you know?" one of the girls asked.

"I've been to both," he provided, know that, while completely true, he hadn't actually answered the intent of her question. He didn't want to get into a discussion of exactly _who_ they were. He didn't want them to be plane crash survivors, or some diva's children. Christ, things could get so complicated, and he just wanted them to be two people on vacation.

They'd been invited to pull their chairs over to the table, at that point, to join the group. When they were asked their names, Boone started to answer, but Shannon cut him off with "I'm Shannon and this is Boone." She shot him a look thinking that he would _so_ have done the whole "and this is my sister" thing again, like he always did. He raised his eyebrows slightly, allowing that she was probably right.

At one point, while the guys were discussing getting a charter to go fishing, one of the girls turned to Shannon. "Your boyfriend is so incredibly gorgeous."

"Oh, he's not," my boyfriend, she was going to finish. Why would she explain to a stranger the complexity of their relationship? She thought of Boone as many things, but boyfriend had never been one of them. Brother, protector, lover, even unofficially, husband, but boyfriend, never. She finished with a lie, "that good looking."

"Are you crazy, look at him, he's gotta be one of the best looking guys I've ever seen," one of the others contradicted her.

She tried to fabricate some flaw about him, it was difficult, she completely agreed with the other woman's assessment of Boone. "He…he snores," jeeze, Shannon, she thought, how lame is that.

"What?" they all looked at her like she was crazy.

"It's a very unattractive quality," man, when had she gotten so bad at lying?

"How long have you guys been going out?" one of the others questioned.

Going out, she thought? We've never _gone out_. What the hell was she going to say to that? "Uh, um, I guess about a year and a bit," she dated it back to the day of the crash, not knowing how else to answer.

"How long have you known each other?"

What was this, she thought, an FBI interrogation? She'd forgotten the just how gossipy a group of women could be. "Thirteen years."

"And you've only been going out a year and a half? You must have great self-restraint."

"Yeah, I guess," she prayed they'd drop this, which they did, returning to the topic they'd previously been discussing, the upcoming wedding of one of the couples.

They agreed to meet later to go clubbing. On the dance floor, Shannon drove him crazy, grinding herself up against him, until they found themselves on the street out front, desperately searching for a cab back to the hotel. They barely made it into the elevator before they were all over each other. In their room, they fell on the bed, making love until early morning.

The next day, the girls went shopping, while the guys went out on the charter they'd been discussing the night before. After shopping, the girls went down to the beach, waiting for the charter to end, and the guys to return. "I wonder when they'll be back?" one of the others questioned as the afternoon got later and there was no sign of them.

"They're back now," Shannon responded, not raising her head from her magazine.

"What? Where?" she was asked.

Not bothering to answer, she finished the end of the paragraph then turned to look behind her as Boone came down the path to the beach. When he saw her he grinned and waved. She smiled at him, rising from the lounge chair; she noticed he had a streak of blood on his jeans. He kissed her deeply when he reached her. "I missed you," he said.

She licked her thumb and wiped a smear of blood off his cheek, "Back from killing poor defenseless sea creatures? You're quite the great white hunter, and you stink of fish."

"I know something that'll fix that." He picked her up in his arms and carried her across the beach and into the ocean. When they were deep enough, he submerged them both. The group on the beach watched as they laughed and splashed each other like children.

The rest of their vacation passed by far too quickly, like everyone's vacations do. The other three couples left on their third day down there and they were left to their own devices. They went out dancing again, but mostly, they made love in their room at night, and lay on the beach during the day, the sound of the ocean in their ears, like it had been on the island, but now it was a comfort, instead of a reminder of the danger that had lurked everywhere.

They packed on their last day, and stood in the room, giving it one final check to make sure they had everything.

Boone suddenly turned to her, "You'll marry me, Shannon." He made it a statement, not a question.

"Of course, you dope." Sabrina had asked them when they were planning on marrying, soon after they'd gotten back, but it had never been important to either one of them. Why _now_ was he asking?

"I need to stop saying "and this is my sister, Shannon." I want to say "and this is my wife, Shannon," and have it really be true." He tried again, "_Will_ you marry me, Shannon?"

"I already said _yes_. But I'm not changing my name. I don't want to. I've been Shannon Rutherford my whole life, _and_ I'm the last Rutherford, at least in my family. Funny, when my dad married your mom, neither one of you became Rutherford's, now I'm _not _going to be a Carlyle. How's that for irony?"


	8. Their Second Wedding

When they got back to LA, they stopped at an artisan style jewelry shop where Boone had bought some pieces in the past. They'd come up with a ring design idea on the way back in the car, and they wanted to see if it was feasible. They selected antique silver with a plane engraved on one outside and the number 815 on the outer opposite side. They both knew that if not for the crash, they would never have ended up together, so the symbols meant a great deal to both of them. Shannon was surprised at how much her expectations had changed. She'd always thought, that when she got married, she'd have an engagement ring with a huge diamond, and a matching wedding band, but now the idea of an engagement ring was ridiculous, and the simple silver meant more to her than any diamond ever could.

When they got back home, after recounting their holiday stories, they told Tom and Heather their plans. They were excited and happy for them, of course. Heather wanted to know, "What did your mother say?"

"Oh no. No, no, no, no, no," Boone shook his head, he hadn't even thought of his mother. He stared wildly at Shannon, as it struck him that Sabrina would want to turn this into a media circus.

"You haven't told her, then, have you?" Heather surmised from his reaction.

As she caught on to what he was thinking, Shannon's eyes widened as she realized the obstacle they faced. "No we haven't, not yet. We have to figure out how, I mean, when. If we tell her too early, she'll want to plan a huge affair, with photo ops and everything. That's definitely _not_ what we want."

Tom realized they were undoubtedly right about what Sabrina would want for her children's wedding, but, knowing them, _they'd_ want something small and casual. "Well okay, you guys seem to have an idea about what you want, so where and when?"

"Here, I'm mean not _right_ here, but here in town, and, I guess there's no point in waiting, so whenever." Shannon smiled at the idea of denying Sabrina the gala she would have wanted.

Heather took them to the local church, where the minister happily agreed to marry them in two weeks time. He knew their story, of course. It was a small town, and once they'd moved there, the strangeness of their tale: who they were, their relationship to one another, what had happened to them, made it excellent fodder for gossip, and he wasn't above listening to the local gossip.

She knew who she wanted to stand up for her, and when she told Boone, he handed her his cell, "It's number four in the memory."

She thumbed the keypad. He answered on the third ring. "Hey, it's Shannon," she responded to his hello.

Jack, of course, had immediately agreed to walk her down the aisle, and give her away. He seemed quite honoured, in fact, to be asked.

She actually toyed with the idea of asking Sawyer. They'd gotten quite close, when in the latter stages of her pregnancy, she'd become increasing less mobile. Sawyer, never one to volunteer, had seized on the excuse of keeping "Sue-Ellen" company as a reason to be even more lazy than usual, as if that was even possible. When he'd found out she was pregnant, he'd made all the requisite jokes about how everyone had thought that _he_ was the hillbilly, when here was Metro knocking up his own sister. She'd been at her bitchy best as they'd sat on the beach, in the shade of the trees, verbally sparring with him endlessly, both of them enjoying it thoroughly. She'd known she'd made a major breakthrough with him when he'd slipped and called her Shannon, instead of Sticks, more than once.

She also thought about having both Jack and Sawyer, but she pictured their competition with one another taking over and, one on each side of her, dragging her up the aisle, struggling, like a condemned prisoner being let to the gallows, as they each tried to be first to reach the front. But ultimately, she knew that there was only one choice, and that was Jack.

Boone hadn't worn a suit in almost a year and a half, but he was sure that Shannon would want him to wear one for the wedding. Besides he knew, himself, that it was the right thing to do, even if he'd rather wear jeans and a t-shirt like he had at their wedding on the island. He went upstairs to check the closet in their room. He thought he remembered seeing a suit bag when they'd moved their stuff in. Surely his mother hadn't gotten rid of all of his good clothes. He found the bag shoved into the far side of the closet, and unzipped it hoping to find his favourite black suit. He was in luck, not only was the suit in the bag, but there was a belt hanging off the hook and, in his typical anal fashion, he'd tucked a tie into the pocket of the jacket. Christ, he thought, I'm so damn predictable.

He tried it on, his body shape was a little different than the last time he'd worn it, but he figured it looked okay. He though he'd play it safe, though, and get Shannon's approval. He knew she was in the kitchen with Heather, clearing up the dinner dishes, so he padded down the back stairs to see what she thought. "Hey, Shan? How does this look, is it….?"

She turned at the sound of his voice, and when she saw him her eyes widened and the knife she was drying slipped out of her hand, skittering across the floor to end up at his feet. "Holy shit," was all she said, staring at him.

Heather turned at the same time, "Oh my," she added.

He looked frantically behind him, from the way they were looking at him he expected to see Freddie Kruger, or some mad man behind him "What, what, what?" he asked them both.

Shannon took a second before she answered him, "Ah, um, I'd forgotten how nice you clean up. I haven't seen you in a suit in a verrry, verrry long time. Jesus, you look hot."

Heather agreed, he looked very different all dressed up, "Yes, uh, you look very nice Boone, although," peering around the table, "you kind of look like you're dressed for your own funeral," Oh no, she couldn't believe that had slipped out, of all the things she could have said, how inappropriate was it to say something like that to _him! _He didn't pick up on it though, still fuming over their reaction.He followed her gaze and looked down at his bare feet. In usual guy fashion, he hadn't bothered to put on shoes.

Tom came in from the hall carrying Andrew, and smiled at Boone, "Hey, you look nice."

"See!" he threw his hands in the air, "That's all you had to say, instead of throwing cutlery at me and telling me I look like my own corpse."

Tom turned to them shocked, "Shannon, you told him he looked like a corpse? I can't believe you said that!"

Heather grimaced a bit, and admitted, "Actually, it was me. He's…he's in a black suit and he's not wearing any shoes. It just came out before I could stop myself."

Boone turned and stomped up the stairs, "Women."

If he'd already planned what he was going to wear, Shannon figured she'd better give it some consideration as well. The following afternoon found her in front of the closet, surrounded by a small pile of dresses. She'd had an emergency stash of clothes at his house in Malibu, and when she'd sold the place, Sabrina had packed them up and kept them. She'd tried on pretty much everything in the closet, rejecting it all, when he came in to see what she was doing. He took one look at the pile of discards, and, smirking, reached into his side of the closet and pulled a simple pink dress from behind the suit bag. It was, of course, the very one she'd been looking for. "You're such a jerk," she snatched it from his hand.

"I guess you won't be flinging cutlery at me again, now will you?" he replied in a satisfied tone.

She looked down at the clothes on the floor, "I can't believe I actually wore this stuff, _and_ liked it. It all seems so frilly and girly now. I hope I didn't look as stupid in it as I think I do now. " She slipped the pink dress over her head, smoothing it out over her hips. "What do you think?"

He stared at her a bit before answering, "I think you look like a bride. What shoes do you wear with that?"

She reached in the closet and pulled out a pair of four-inch heels, holding them up in front of his face. "You might want to rethink that, Shan," he advised.

"Why, because you hate it when I'm taller than you?" she immediately jumped to the wrong conclusion, becoming the bitchy sister for a minute. Jack had often commented that sometimes talking to them was like having a conversation with four people instead of two, as they seamless changed roles from the lovers they'd become, to brother/sister and back again.

He sighed, "No, because you haven't worn anything but running shoes for a very long time," he was just being practical. "You might want to give those shoes a trial run."

She pulled them on and started to walk from the closet to the bed, teetering unsteadily on the unfamiliar shoes. "Jesus, I used to be able to actually _run_ in these things, how the hell did I manage that?" She took the shoes off and reached in the closet to substitute a pair with a much, much lower heel.

Their friends started arriving the night before the wedding. They were expecting all ten of the survivors they'd become close to. They had room for five in the house, and for the overflow, for people who were used to camping out by necessity, sleeping in tents in the back yard, beside a place with all the amenities, was no big deal. Michael had actually called ahead to see if it would be _okay_ if Walt and he slept outside.

They solved the problem with _when _to tell Sabrina by not telling her at all. Boone simply called and asked her to come for lunch, that he had something to tell her. Then he called her chauffeur and, after swearing him to secrecy, told him exactly why he had to be sure he got her to their place on time. Boone thought the man was secretly pleased to be deceiving her; she probably made his life a living hell.

She was puzzled when she arrived and saw all their friends. When he'd called to invite her, and said he had something to tell her, she'd hoped it was that he'd split with Shannon. She was about to have her hopes dashed," Boone, what's going on?"

He drew a deep breath, steeling himself for the reaction to his next words, "We're getting married, mother."

"What? You and Shannon? When? Where?" she demanded, although she already suspected, from the way he was dressed, the answer.

"Yes, of course, me and Shannon," he replied in exasperation, "and to answer the rest of your questions, right now, and right here, at the church in town."

"Don't be absurd! If you're planning on marrying her, it will have to be done properly, with the proper arrangements. My son is _not_ getting married in some backwoods revivalist tent!"

He closed his eyes, trying to remain calm, "It's not a revivalist tent, it's a proper church, and you are _not_ going to ruin this for us, I _won't_ have it. I want you here, but you'll keep your negative comments to yourself." He opened his eyes to look at her.

Her lips were pinched tightly together, "Do _not_ speak to me like that again, Boone. I'm your mother, and you _will_ respect that."

"Yes, I will, I do, that's why you're here, but you'll respect my wishes in this. I'm getting married, mother. Please, please, for once let this be about me, and not about you," he pleaded with her. "Now, here comes Shannon. You'll tell her how nice she looks, and that you're happy for us."

The ceremony went off without any complications, and Sabrina behaved herself throughout. Afterwards they returned to the house, to celebrate, eating, drinking and dancing well into the night.

They'd just finished dancing, and were standing together off to one side of the yard, when Boone turned to her and reached out to shake her hand. Shannon looked at it, not understanding the strange action, but reaching out and shaking it anyway, "Hi, I'm Boone and this is my _wife_ Shannon," he said with a grin.

"You think you can manage to remember to say it like that?" she teased.

"I'll do my best," he promised.

He got the tattoo two weeks later.


End file.
